


pull you close

by IneffableInsomniac



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableInsomniac/pseuds/IneffableInsomniac
Summary: after they save the world, aziraphale and crowley have tea at the ritz. unfortunately for crowley, aziraphale would like to dance.inspired by some wonderful art that is linked in the author's notes.





	pull you close

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by and loosely based on this comic by @smudgeandfrank on instagram:  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BzAydb7lhH5/  
> hamlet mention inspired by @thetrashpeople on instagram's drawing:  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BzMInrhCOGv/
> 
> also i deliberately chose not to research the ritz much because the building and floor plan will be whatever i need it to be goddammit
> 
> title is the name of a really sweet song by jr jr you should listen to it uwu

After switching back to their usual faces (thank goodness that Agnes had tipped them off about their impending executions), Aziraphale and Crowley decided that they would, in celebration, be having afternoon tea at the Ritz. Aziraphale simply loved the finer dining establishments of London, and the smitten demon, though not exactly a foodie, was- what was the word? Oh, right. 

Absolutely whipped. 

He just couldn't say no to his angel's requests. Crowley hated Shakespeare's gloomy works, as he called them, but Zira's puppy-dog eyes convinced him effortlessly to help out the bard and make Hamlet a success. Anything Aziraphale wanted, he got. The demon couldn't help his lovestruck reactions to his angelic counterpart, leading to situations such as their crepe lunch during the Reign of Terror following the close call with a (impermanent yet inconvenient) beheading.

As such, Crowley found himself seated at a table for two in the Ritz. Neither he nor Aziraphale particularly needed to eat, but the angel had claimed that "a good dessert is just what one needs after stopping the apocalypse!" Despite the fact that this made absolutely no sense to either of them, Crowley snickered at Zira's proclamation.

After making light-hearted small talk over an array of warm, decadent scones and pastries that even Crowley begrudgingly admitted were delicious, Aziraphale suggested that they head out to the balcony. It was a _miraculously_ slow day, observed the angel with a smirk on his face, and the terrace was likely to be empty.

Crowley returned his grin, and despite the fact that he had known and cared for the principality for 6000-odd years, his stomach suddenly felt very high in his throat at the idea of being alone with Zira for the first time since they pledged their allegiance to each other rather than heaven and hell. He'd been pining for millennia, and now could be the moment that changes all of that.

Crowley stood a bit overenthusiastically, jostling the table and causing a chorus of clinking to come from the rattled dishes. Aziraphale, trying and failing not to laugh at his demonic partner, rose from his seat more carefully and followed after Crowley as he sauntered out onto the balcony. 

Good lord, it had been 6000 years, you would think that Crowley had gotten the hang of having legs or at least grown bored of the exaggerated swagger that characterized him. Still, Aziraphale noted, the motion of his hips was awfully attractive. At this thought, the angel felt himself begin to blush, and quickly shifted his eyes elsewhere.

The two leaned against the railing of the terrace, Crowley resting his jaw in his hand as they looked out over Green Park. "Just think," he said, "all of these folks would be gone right now if not for us."

Aziraphale blanched a bit at the demon's morbid musing, preferring not to dwell on what could have happened. "Well, I don't think it was all us," he deflected. "Anathema and that boy, uh, Newt helped quite a bit too." Crowley didn't seem to have any response to that, instead continuing to watch the people walking around the park. His dark glasses only added to his air of mystery, thought Aziraphale to himself.

"Well, what do you suppose we do now?" questioned the demon as he stood up straighter and turned to face him. Zira was quite taken aback by the question, and he stood there blank-faced for a moment. 

However, before he was forced to come up with an answer to such a big question, he was cut off mid-thought by soft classical music emanating from the dining room and out onto the terrace. Aziraphale recognized the tune immediately as Chopin's Nocturne in E-flat Major, from Opus 9 if he recalled correctly. It was one of his favorites, and although nocturnes were not traditionally dancing music, he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

"I think we should dance!" He proposed to Crowley, who gave him a glare that could kill a mortal being. 

"Angel, absolutely not. I don't waltz and you and I both know that."

Unfortunately for his enamored demon, Aziraphale knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. Without hesitation, Zira put on the puppy-dog eyes and hopeful smile that he knew Crowley wouldn't be able to resist. "Please? None of the others angels dance, and I've never gotten to try slow dancing, and-"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley exclaimed, cutting the rambling angel off. "For the last time, I don't bloody dance!"

He looked a bit guilty after he finished speaking, and Aziraphale knew that was his in. He decided it was time to use Crowley's other weakness: alcohol. 

"How about if I treat you to the world's best wine in return?" He could see Crowley perk up at his words. "Chateau Latour, 1945. Like nothing else you've ever had, I promise."

Crowley struggled internally, but he _really_ wanted to try the wine. Even though he knew that the angel would probably let him have a glass (or a bottle) regardless of his compliance, he decided that Aziraphale really, truly wanted to dance with him, and that he may as well.

"Fine, angel. But don't expect me to be anything other than rubbish at dancing." He sighed, and then asked, "So... how does this work, exactly?"

Success! While it was true that Aziraphale had never waltzed before, he understood slow dancing in theory, and began instructing Crowley.

"Here," he said, taking hold of the demon's right hand with his left. "Come closer, I don't bite," the angel joked, not noticing the blush on Crowley's face as he stepped forward. He guided the hand he was holding to his waist. "You rest your hand on my waist, like so. Then my hand goes on your shoulder," he said as he slid his now-unoccupied left hand over Crowley's right shoulder, resting it just below the nape of his neck. The contact, even through his jacket, sent a gentle shiver down Crowley's spine.

Aziraphale decided not to verbalize the next part. Crowley's been around long enough, he should be fine with holding hands, the angel decided. Slowly, Zira grasped Crowley's hand - warm but not clammy, he noted - and intertwined their fingers, bringing their now joined hands up to their side. 

Aziraphale, despite being the one who had suggested a dance, was astoundingly nervous. This was the closest he had ever physically been to Crowley, and he was embarrassed to say that he was enjoying it quite thoroughly. Crowley's soft hands, the smell of his cologne, the warmth that enveloped him all caused his face to begin heating up once more.

Crowley decided to break the silence that Aziraphale's silent wonder had created. "So, is this it, or...?" 

The angel refocused his attention to the task at hand. "Well, now we step back and forth! I'll lead if you like, and I'm sure you can keep track of the beat." With that, Aziraphale took a step as the absent pianist began the song's melody once again.

Crowley stepped with him, but he couldn't seem to get the hang of it. Perhaps his usual dramatic saunter had thrown off his feet. Whatever the reason, he continued to clip the toes of Aziraphale's shoes every few steps. "Shit," he mumbled. Almost immediately after, he landed his foot directly on top of Zira's foot. "Fuck! I'm so sorry, angel, it like my feet are -shit- guided to step on yours!" He apologized, feeling himself begin to redden in embarrassment.

Aziraphale, his radiant and kind angel, just laughed it off. "It's fine! Just relax, you're doing splendid." At his praise, Crowley felt himself grow even redder. 

Finally, something seemed to click, and their rhythms matched up. Crowley managed to keep his feet to himself, and he wouldn't admit it, but he rather liked this. He especially had some feelings about his hand resting over Aziraphale's hip, but he was determined not to let that ruin the angel's dance. As friends. With his friend. Who didn't have feelings for him.

Aziraphale snapped out of his reverie and realised that the song was nearing its end. He decided that now, alone, without heaven and hell looming over them, was the time to make a move. Now or never.

"Crowley," he murmured, bringing the demon's sunglasses-obscured gaze back to his face. The demon had a rather fetching blush on the apples of his cheeks, and Zira decided that he wanted a better look.

Without warning, Aziraphale lifted his left hand to Crowley's ear and pushed his sunglasses up to rest atop his head. The demon's pupils looked larger than usual, and Aziraphale suspected he knew why.

"You look beautiful in this light." Crowley obviously heard the angel's compliment, but he seemed to be unable to process it. He simply continued to look at the angel, blushing furiously and attempting to form any coherent thought.

Aziraphale decided to spare Crowley the burden of stringing together enough words for an answer and, mustering all his courage, closed the gap between them to kiss Crowley gently on the lips. He pulled back, not intending a longer kiss.

Crowley clearly had other plans. He pulled his left hand out of Zira's right, and for a moment the angel was certain he had just lost the only ally he had left, but then Crowley's hand came up to the back of his head, and he was pulling the angel into a long, passionate kiss.

After a few moments, Aziraphale broke the kiss to look into Crowley's eyes, registering distantly that the music had come to an end. "Well, thank you for this dance. What do you suppose we do now?" he asked, parroting back the question that had spurred this in the first placed.

Crowley smirked as his right hand, which had still been on Aziraphale's hip, slid farther down his back until it cupped the angel's ass. "I don't know about you, but I have a few ideas."

"Oh? What did you have in mind, dear?" he shot back with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"I'll show you later. For now, we should probably head out, let someone else enjoy the balcony." Crowley stepped back, opening the door back into the restaurant. "Could I perhaps _tempt_ you back to my apartment?"

Aziraphale grinned. "Temptation accomplished."

**Author's Note:**

> i really truly know nothing about ballroom dancing. i DO know that a nocturne isn't a dance, but i love chopin's nocturne in e-flat major (listen to it at https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tV5U8kVYS88) and nobody can stop me
> 
> feel free to leave constructive criticism or fic ideas!


End file.
